


Maybe I'm Just a Pawn So He Can Advance

by AutoRespawnse



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: "Satanic" Rituals, Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Anal, Anal Sex, Blood, Blood Kink, Blood Magic, Blood and Torture, Bloodplay, Face-Fucking, Hand Jobs, It's Porn and Blood, Knives, M/M, Oral Sex, Vague Magic Rituals, that's all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 10:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3565691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutoRespawnse/pseuds/AutoRespawnse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was the one part of Murdoc’s religion you didn’t mind participating in. You liked to imagine this was the only time he saw you as something other than a singer and it was almost calming to you now to feel the sharp blade of his athame. You could see the obsidian blade glittering in the red candle light as Murdoc moved around you, saw where it would cut before he drew it over your skin. His focus was entirely on you—or at least what he was doing to you—and that made it so easy for you to agree to enter his room for these weird practices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe I'm Just a Pawn So He Can Advance

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely set around the time of the Do Ya Thing video.

The room was spinning behind your eyes and you felt yourself starting to get even more lightheaded with every cut and slice made at your skin.

Distantly, past the ringing in your ears, you could hear him muttering and shuffling around you and the table you laid on. You only caught every other word, making it so you couldn’t quite piece together what he was saying beyond thanking you for your sacrifice.

This was the one part of Murdoc’s religion you didn’t mind participating in. You liked to imagine this was the only time he saw you as something other than a singer and it was almost calming to you now to feel the sharp blade of his athame. You could see the obsidian blade glittering in the red candle light as Murdoc moved around you, saw where it would cut before he drew it over your skin. His focus was entirely on you—or at least what he was doing to you—and that made it so easy for you to agree to enter his room for these weird practices.

His room was usually black because of the way he’d painted the walls and windows, but the candles made the corner of the room he had as his living quarters visible, showing you his bed and dresser (not that he wore much clothing).

You’d drifted off in thought and a particularly deep cut on your thigh brought you back to yourself, making you hiss in pain and try to curl your legs up, only to have Murdoc smack you lightly on the leg to remind you to stay still.

You couldn’t help the small whine that escaped you when he cut at your hips and you arched your back off the table a bit.

“2D.” The growl of his voice made you shake and you whined at him, biting your lip to keep yourself from talking and getting in even more trouble.

He went back to what he was doing, his voice a dull murmur in your ears as he circled you to cut another part of your body that was clearly not cut enough yet.

Thankfully, Murdoc always seemed to be considerate of your privates, and you knew that even when that blade drew near your nether-region he wouldn’t cut that part of you.

That made his closeness even harder to bear sometimes, especially when he threw down his athame and ran his fingers up your bloodied thighs, tracing patterns and lines onto your skin with thick red blood.

You’d look like a horror show after he was done with you, and only Murdoc appreciated that view. Thank god Noodle was already asleep in bed.

Runes and glyphs came to mark your body as Murdoc moved around you, tracing the patterns he obviously knew from years of use onto your skin.

You closed your eyes for a moment to stop the wave of nausea that overtook you when you realized you could smell all the blood in the room.

You jumped in surprise when a moment later, you felt a body moving to kneel over yours and a pair of lips on your neck, licking at the trails of blood on your skin.

Murdoc growled at you when you moved slightly, sinking his teeth into your neck over a cut and making more blood ooze from the wound that had already begun to close. So much for that healing properly.

You tried your best not to move as he hovered over you, following the patterns he’d drawn with his fingers over you with his tongue. Every cut was laved at, soothed slightly with the warmth and pressure on them, and you couldn’t help yourself when your control snapped and you laced your fingers into Murdoc’s hair to push him lower on you.

“Not done yet.” He huffed at you, sending you a glare.

You managed to release him, lowering your arms to your sides shakily, and watched as he moved to finish what he was doing. That long tongue that you sometimes guiltily fantasized about trailed over your skin, giving you goosebumps while he cleaned you of your blood or absorbed your essence or whatever he called it.

Your breath caught when he stopped at your hips to suck at the skin there, making sure you’d have another mark beside the one on your neck that he renewed every couple days.

He made quick work of your legs, moving down one then up the other, his mouth lingering on your other hip to worry another mark into it.

You looked down and saw him lay his head on your thigh, his eyes shut tight and his mouth moving almost silently as he finished whatever ritual he had been performing with your help. You heard him say ‘thank you’ again, to you or some obscure deity you weren’t sure, but his muttering was somewhat comforting to you.

He finished talking and turned his head in to worry at your skin again. You took that as permission to move and threaded your fingers into his hair again, sighing happily when he mouthed at what little meat you had on your thighs.

You scratched the back of his head and he growled at you softly, biting at your thigh, barely deep enough to bruise, and certainly not deep enough to break skin. You shuddered as his lips traced a line up the joint of your hips, setting another mark into you.

“Murdoc—” You didn’t even realize you’d spoken until his mismatched eyes were focused on yours, though not with his usual glare. He seemed to be in a haze, which was what usually happened when you were in these rituals with him. It was like he’d get drunk off the blood.

He didn’t speak as he lifted himself over you, licking his lips of the blood that clung to them before his mouth covered yours. You let out a soft nose at the contact and let him guide you through a kiss that was much softer than the ones you normally shared with him.

Long fingers and large palms smoothed themselves over your skin and the cuts in it. He pressed on your ribs a bit when he repositioned himself, swinging his legs over yours to sit himself on your thighs.

A whimper escaped you at the rough texture of his jeans on your wounds, and you felt one open up again, but refused to say anything when one of those hands released your hips to wrap around your cock and pump it up to attention. Murdoc leaned his forehead against yours and teased his tongue over your lips, prompting your to open your mouth for him.

You could taste your blood on his tongue, tangy and sharp like metal, along with the tobacco from his cigarettes. You tightened your grip on his hair and leaned up to kiss him deeper, feeling his breath mingling with yours in the shared space.

You moaned softly when he squeezed your cock in his fingers, pressed your hips up into his touch, and heard that dark chuckle he gave when his mind was drifting anywhere dirty. A moment later, he was kneeling by your face, pressing his cock against your lips after shimmying his pants down enough to fish it out.

You blinked in surprise at the sudden movement, but once presented with his hard member you had no problems sucking the tip of it into your mouth, which earned you a contented hum from the older man above you.

You tried your best to keep up with him when he started to roll his hips into your mouth, sucking and licking at the hardened flesh eagerly while he almost pet your hair in appreciation. You chanced a look up his body to his face, seeing his eyes shut and his mouth gone slack, almost as though he was relaxed as he fucked your mouth. His hips rolled fluidly, showing his years of practice in sex with just a simple movement that was so well rehearsed. 

His hand released your hair and you felt him shift above you, forcing his cock into your mouth deeper while he leaned over you to grope at something on the other end of the long table in his room.

You felt your face turning red when you caught a glimpse of the small tub of Vaseline, knowing exactly what it was for. He’d planned for this, of course. If there was a way for Murdoc to get his rocks off, he would.

He pulled away from you, leaving a trail of spit connecting your mouth and his cock for a brief moment before he moved to stand beside the table, tugging you off it slightly.

You winced when cool, slick fingers pressed against your entrance and tried to relax yourself, knowing that he wouldn’t start easy on you.

Two fingers were pressed into you a moment later, scissoring you open while his other hand held your hips steady. He moved between your legs and you wrapped yours around his hips, feeling his cock press against your thigh while he worked you open.

He deemed you ready probably a little before you actually were, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as he leaned over you again, easing himself into you with a soft groan right in your ear.

He was back to rolling his hips again, easing himself into and out of you, going deeper each time until he was seated in you. He gave you a moment to adjust while he bit another mark onto your collarbone (he wasn’t tall enough to reach your neck and face, which really made the action more endearing than it should have been). 

Once the mark had started to form on your skin, he abandoned that project in favor of rolling his hips into you, slow and steady.

The couple of times you’d helped him with his rituals, you’d had sex like this. Slow and deep and far more pleasurable than when he was just using you to get off. He was almost gentle as he moved, his cock brushing over all the right places in you and making you arch into his movements, press your hips to his.

His hands on your hips steadied you and guided you down onto his cock as he drove himself into you deep enough that for a moment you thought he was in your stomach.

His pace built up over time, his hips rolling faster and faster when he started to near his finish. Before you knew it, the slow pace was forgotten. You could feel and hear your skin sticking to his with sweat with each hard thrust into you he made, and you pushed your hips into his, praying he’d hit the spot inside you that made you see stars.

Forget seeing stars, you were blinded when he finally hit your prostate, and your cock spilled all over your stomach and chest, some even reaching as far as your chin when you came.

Murdoc came a few moments after you, your only indication of his finish being the ropes of come he filled you with.

He slumped onto you, his head nestled against your chest for a few moments while he caught his breath before he stood up to pull out of you.

You tried to stand when he moved away, only to slip on what you assumed was your own blood on the floor.

Murdoc caught you easily and led you to the door, giving you a hard slap on the ass as he pushed you out, then slammed the door behind you.

**Author's Note:**

> I... really can't explain this one.


End file.
